


Albatross

by pallidiflora



Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 07:19:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2100546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pallidiflora/pseuds/pallidiflora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something has to be done about this, Alvin resolves—this teenagerish longing, this mooning around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Albatross

Something has to be done about this, Alvin resolves—this teenagerish longing, this mooning around. It's bad enough that he trails after Jude like a dog after a bone, fist around his own dick at night, thinking of the back of Jude's neck, the hollows of his bent knees; next thing he knows he'll be snipping off locks of his hair and wearing them around his neck, like an albatross, like a millstone. Sleazy or pathetic, but wanting something he can't have either way. If given the choice, though, Alvin will choose sleazy every time—it seems more deliberate, it has more perks.  
  
So he cruises the seahavens when they visit, clutching the gold in his pockets until his hands smell of blood, looking for furtive boys short on cash. They're easy enough to spot even if they think they aren't—the angle of their necks, their ashen, ingratiating faces. Their earnestness is what draws him to them, something he wants to hold on to and fuck out of them. When everyone else is asleep he'll rent a room by the hour, place his weapons on the bedside tables and fuck them with a viciousness that surprises him; he wants them to be raw afterward, like a wound. For their part, they keep their eyes on his gun, which he keeps loaded. They roll their hips, they whimper, they are unsatisfactory; sometimes he places his hands around their necks, lightly, just to see what they'll do.  
  
When he does this he keeps a little gold left over to buy snacks—day-old buns, leftover cakes wrapped in paper—and leaves them on the table for Jude to find, an excuse for the missing money; really they're more like peace offerings. Jude eats them in the morning without comment, or else shares them with Elize, the two of them licking stale sugar off their fingers. The sight makes Alvin's mouth fill with saliva, makes his teeth ache.


End file.
